<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Pirouette by ohgodmyeyes</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29337501">Pirouette</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgodmyeyes/pseuds/ohgodmyeyes'>ohgodmyeyes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anakin Skywalker is a Little Shit, Anakin's Room, Bad Sex, Captivity, Coruscant, Creepy, Dancing, Errors in Judgement, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Force Choking, Good intentions?, Kidnapping, Loneliness, Mental Health Issues, More tags later, Obsession, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Rape, Reader Needs a Hug, Reader-Insert, References to pee, References to pregnancy/abortion, Sexual Inexperience, The Jedi Order is Oblivious, Youth, exotic dancing, he's about 16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:09:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29337501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgodmyeyes/pseuds/ohgodmyeyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You are an exotic dancer who works at a nightclub nestled discreetly amongst the other businesses concentrated in the depths of Coruscant’s lower levels.</p><p>Anakin Skywalker is a clever young Jedi Padawan with strong arms, terrible judgement, and a tendency to fixate.</p><p>What does that mean for you, now that you seem to have caught his eye?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anakin Skywalker/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pirouette</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itohan/gifts">Itohan</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Unabashedly inspired by the works of the very talented <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itohan/pseuds/Itohan">Itohan</a>. </p><p>They write some truly amazing Anakin stories, and have the most incredible handle on the boy's particular, unique brand of mental illness.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You'd always wanted to be a dancer.</p><p>Even when you were a just little girl, the joy it brought you to move your limbs and sway your hips, especially to the rhythm of music, had wholly captivated you. Livelier songs were always your favourites, but you liked slow ones, too: Ballads and waltzes; songs you might dance to while holding (or while being held by) someone else. The music itself didn't really matter— as long as you could dance, you were happy. It had always been that way.</p><p>It was your love of the art of dance which had brought you to Coruscant in the first place. There were schools for it here, and plenty of public studios; on top of that, there were jobs. They weren't all <i>good</i> jobs, of course, but you liked yours very much. You worked as a dancer at a club on one of the city's lower levels, using the money you earned there to pay for more lessons, and improve your skills. </p><p>You weren't the type of dancer your mother would have liked for you to be, necessarily, but the happiness you derived from movement was not dependent upon who was watching... or, for that matter, whether or not you were wearing a full set of clothes. You loved that the music where you worked was fast and cheerful; more than that, you appreciated getting to choreograph your own act. It was nice to be free to use your favourite moves, and perform the sequences you liked best. You had plenty of friends at work, and you were even fond of your boss, the club's owner.</p><p>Overall, you liked your life on Coruscant. It was nice here, and most of the time, you felt safe. <i>Secure.</i></p><p>Unfortunately for you, though, right now was not 'most of the time'. </p><p>Once again having run out of thoughts with which you might distract yourself, you resumed peering uselessly from side-to-side. Begrudgingly, you allowed your mind to drag you back into your present reality, only to find that nothing about it had changed: The only thing you could do was turn your head, and all you had to observe when you did was darkness. The scent and sensation of wood consumed you, and the only light to be seen came from a series of small breathing holes drilled into the side of the box. </p><p><i>Your</i> box.</p><p>It wasn't a very big box— just big enough for you to lay down in, legs straight and arms at your sides. This was because the nondescript container needed to be able to fit discreetly beneath the bed of your captor, a bed that also happened not to be very big: The boy who'd taken you was only a student. His bed was located in his room at his 'school', which for all intents and purposes wasn't really a school at all. Instead, he learned and resided at the sprawling Jedi Temple located not too far from the Galactic Senate.</p><p>You almost never visited this part of the city, because you had no reason to. You didn't know any Jedi or any politicians; most of your business was conducted between your home, the club in which you worked, and the studio that hosted your dance lessons.</p><p>You'd heard a lot about the Jedi over the course of your time on Coruscant, though, and that made you wonder why none of the boy's teachers or fellow students had found you yet. Shouldn't that 'Force' stuff you'd been told so much about have made it so that they could detect your presence here? You'd asked him about that, but he'd only smiled and informed you confidently that they couldn't find what they weren't looking for.</p><p>You had threatened him with the wrath of your employer and friends after that; told him they'd be furious to learn that he'd taken you against your will, only to keep you at his disposal inside of a flat, wooden box. Disconcertingly, he had ignored your threat, instead focusing on your apparent dislike of the 'habitat' he'd constructed to house you. </p><p><i>I made this box <b>just for you,</b></i> he'd pouted. <i>Don't you like the wood I used? It's real pine... from Kashyyyk, I think.</i></p><p>You'd told him that you didn't care where the hell the damn wood came from, but after that he'd used the Force to silence you, pressing down on your windpipe with what felt like an indomitably strong, invisible set of fingers. He'd been relatively gentle about it, but somehow you knew that he could easily have applied much more pressure if that was what he wanted to do. You'd heeded his warning; shut your mouth. </p><p>It was difficult to keep track of time this way, but from what you could tell, you'd been here for approximately two weeks— two long, frightening, emotionally and physically taxing weeks. It had all started at work one night: From the stage, you had noticed a face in the crowd; a recurring face. That wasn't anything new; you often saw faces more than once. The presence of <i>this</i> particular face, however, never failed to unnerve you. That was because it was a face which, for all the enthusiasm evident in its expression, very clearly belonged to somebody who was far too young to be there.</p><p>He always entered the club on 'official Jedi business', or at least that was what you'd been told by the security guards. There was, they said, nothing they could do to remove him without potentially stirring up trouble with the Order, and so they'd stopped trying to get rid of him soon after his first visit. Instead, they resorted to letting him stand silently amongst the bustling crowd, smiling at you in a way that made you want to hide. He was tall and blonde; strong-looking— maybe someday, he might even be handsome. He was clearly also very eager, though, and he focused his attention on you more intently than any other patron ever had.</p><p>To dance with him in the crowd was to feel as if you were in the middle of an empty room, and that he was the only person in it to observe you.</p><p>He watched you like this night after night for several weeks, until late one evening he finally approached you during one of your breaks. He'd claimed that he only wanted to say hello, but you had already known better than that. You'd cast him off in a way the security guards hadn't dared to do, telling him in no uncertain terms to go home and not come back until he'd grown up. A boy his age, you'd told him, had no business watching women dance at a club like this one.</p><p>He'd countered that by telling you he didn't come to watch women dance— that he only ever came to see <i>one</i> woman dance, and that woman was you.</p><p>You'd scoffed at his assertion, and then— before he had a chance to say anything back— retreated behind the curtain until it was your turn to dance again. The vehemence with which the boy spoke (not to mention the odd smile on his face and the icy countenance of his eyes) had left you feeling unsettled. You knew then that you wanted nothing more than to stay far away from him, and so that was what you'd tried to do.</p><p>When he didn't appear in the midst of the crowd for your next set, you assumed you had successfully shooed him away. </p><p>Once again, however, it seemed as if you'd been wrong. <i>Very</i> wrong.</p><p>It was later on that same night that you had been ambushed— tackled into an alley not far from the club, and dragged into the shadows by a set of disconcertingly strong arms attached to a formidable young body. When you'd struggled and raised your voice in protest, you'd been met with the same invisible hand upon your throat with which he liked to threaten you now that you resided in a box beneath his bed. He'd shown you his lightsaber as well; even used it to cut through a large, heavy piece of nearby scrap metal as if to prove his point.</p><p><i>You're coming with me,</i> he'd said. <i><b>I need you.</b></i></p><p>You hadn't been brave enough to try and fight him. Between his weapon and his apparent command of the Force, you were already quite sure you wouldn't have stood a chance.</p><p>You still didn't know how the hell he'd gotten you into the Temple undetected. It was late at night by the time you'd arrived here with him, and you hadn't entered through anything that resembled a main door— instead, you'd been walked calmly through a more discreet-looking entrance at the side of the sprawling structure. You didn't know why it was unguarded; didn't know if he'd orchestrated that himself, or if he'd just been lucky. </p><p>That really didn't matter, though. Not now that you were here. </p><p>All of a sudden, you heard a noise— you'd been here long enough to know that it was the sound of the door to his quarters. No one else but him ever came in or out of his room, leading you to believe that he didn't have very many friends. That didn't surprise you; he was a creepy little pervert, frankly, and if you'd been one of his peers, you probably wouldn't have wanted to hang out with him, either. </p><p>Nonetheless, you threw your body from side-to-side in the box, shouted through its lid, and used your fist to bang on the interior. If there did happen to be anyone besides <i>him</i> in the room, they'd certainly hear you— extract you; save you. Every minute you spent here was a minute too long, and although you weren't yet sure just how you were going to do it, you knew you had to get out.</p><p>You couldn't even dance here— and although that might have seemed a trivial grievance to someone who didn't understand, not being able to dance might have been the very worst part of this entire ordeal. </p><p>Your call for help went ignored, but the box jolted anyway. You knew that meant it was being pulled out from under the bed. He always took you out, at least— he liked to look at you, not to mention play with you. You supposed he was enjoying you, but you certainly weren't enjoying him. He was naive, entitled, and exactly as horny as you'd have expected a boy his age to be. He seemed to think he was taking very good care of you, and if you'd been a Guinea pig or a rat, he may very well have been correct.</p><p>He wasn't correct, though. You weren't a rodent, and you certainly didn't belong in a cage.</p><p>"I missed you," was the first thing he said, after unlatching the box and pulling open the top. He smiled down at you, and extended a hand as if he intended to help you rise. You ignored it; got up without him despite the stiffness of your joints and muscles. His face fell, but not enough to make you feel frightened. </p><p>Not yet, anyway. </p><p>"Did you bring what I told you I needed?" you asked, because you didn't care if he'd missed you, and you certainly hadn't missed him in return. You'd last seen him early that morning, when he had taken you out to play with your hair and engage in some one-sided small-talk. You didn't speak to him very much because it was useless, and anyway you didn't like to do it. He definitely enjoyed speaking to you, though.</p><p>"Of course I did," he said. "I brought a towel, and an extra glass of water from the kitchen. It's not very warm, but—"</p><p>"It'll do," you sighed, because it would have to. Before now, you hadn't been afforded an opportunity to wash any part of your body since you had arrived. You hated it, but there wasn't much you could do about it right now, aside from ask for a glass of water and a towel... which must have been why part of you was grateful to him for having at least tried to fulfill your request.</p><p>He went off to stand in front of a tiny table situated near his door; fussed and fiddled with a small assortment of items he'd brought in with him. You paid him little mind, opting instead to glance down at the box from which you'd just risen. It did look like pine, you thought, although whether or not it was actually from Kashyyyk was anyone's guess. It was <i>just</i> tall enough that you didn't hit your nose on the lid when he closed it over your face, and it was only barely wide enough to allow your arms a few inches to move at your sides. It smelled like sweat (both his and yours) and wood. Your stomach knotted violently at the thought of having to go back into it.</p><p>It was, for all intents and purposes, a coffin... except for the fact that most coffins you'd seen looked far more comfortable than Anakin Skywalker's macabre little contraption.</p><p>"How do you feel?" he asked, stepping back towards you with a small towel in one hand, and a glass of lukewarm water in the other. "I brought you some food, too," he added before you could answer his question, motioning toward the table at the door. It was prescient of him to understand that you wanted more than anything to, at the very least, pass a wet cloth over your body. You'd have preferred a shower or a bath, of course, but neither of those little luxuries was available to you right now, so you didn't let your mind linger on them for very long.</p><p>"I feel like I want to go home," you said, because that was always how you answered him. Anyway, it was true.</p><p>"You <i>are</i> home," he insisted, as if you were the one who was crazy, instead of him.</p><p>"You're keeping me in a box under your bed, Anakin," you said, invoking his name. It was a strange name, you thought— a strange name for a strange boy.</p><p>"But it's <i>your</i> box." He smiled warmly, and looked between you and what he had in his hands.</p><p>You sighed again, and started to undress.</p><p>It wasn't as if Anakin had never seen you naked before; watching you take your clothes off as you danced was how he'd first seen you. Getting undressed for him here, though, was something entirely different. You didn't like it— you <i>never</i> liked it.</p><p>Predictably, he set what he'd brought for you down on the floor, and started to unclasp his own belt as you began to slide your shirt off over your head. You'd been wearing a shirt, a skirt, a jacket, and a pair of boots when he'd snatched you off the street; the jacket and boots were all but useless here, so they were bundled up at the foot of 'your' box. </p><p>"You're beautiful," he said. Anakin liked to tell you that.</p><p>"I don't <i>feel</i> beautiful." You didn't— not like this.</p><p>
  <i>"You should."</i>
</p><p>You tried not to shake your head at that as you slipped your skirt and panties off over your hips, and kicked them into a pile along with your shirt. Once you'd done that, you picked up the towel from the floor and examined it briefly before dipping the end of it into the water, and commenced wiping yourself down as best you could. You started with your cunt, mostly because Anakin had made a dangerous habit of depositing himself inside of you, and you hadn't felt clean since the first night you had spent here. </p><p>By the time you'd washed your pussy to your satisfaction and moved onto cleaning your neck, face, and armpits with the opposite end of the towel, Anakin had stripped down to just his pants and boots. The pants were loose and earth-coloured, and you guessed they were fairly ideal for jumping and running and otherwise moving about during his training. You couldn't help but notice that they weren't entirely unlike the pants you sometimes wore to your dance lessons. Seeing them made you wonder whether or not any of your instructors were curious about why you'd been gone for two weeks... but, as with your friends and your boss and (apparently) the Temple's older Jedi Knights, no one could find you if they didn't know what they were looking for, or where to look.</p><p>"I was cold all the time when I first got here," he told you, seeming to have noticed the goosebumps that had popped up on your skin now that some of it was wet. "I'll see if I can get you a cloak to wear."</p><p>"I have sweaters at home," you said dryly, placing the towel and the near-empty glass down on the floor beside you. After that, you sat down on the bed, if only because it was soft— softer than the damn box, anyway. You didn't bother to put any of your clothes back on, because you knew better.</p><p><i>"You <b>are</b> home,"</i> he reiterated, without so much as a hint of self-awareness concerning just how crazy this whole business was. </p><p>"You know you can't keep me here forever," you began for what felt like the thousandth time. "Either someone will find me, or I'll—"</p><p><i>"Shh,"</i> he said, stepping up to where you were seated on the edge of his mattress. "You just have to trust me. I've told you again and again— <i>I need you.</i> That means I'll figure this all out... and by the time I do, I promise you'll be happy." He paused and tilted his head as he took on an almost wistful expression. "Happier than you can even imagine," he added for good measure, sounding as though he truly believed what he was saying.</p><p>You sighed yet again, because you knew by now that arguing with Anakin was as useless as trying to have a conversation with him. If you upset him too much, he'd only use his mind (or, alternatively, his hand) to silence you... and even if you <i>didn't</i> upset him, he wasn't liable to take what you told him seriously. Over the course of the time you'd been trapped here, you'd come under the impression that Anakin was a boy somewhat disconnected from reality. Weren't Jedi students (or, 'Padawans', as you'd heard your captor call himself) subjected to more monitoring than this? How could nobody have noticed that one of them was completely out of his mind?</p><p>You guessed that didn't matter any more than how, exactly, Anakin had managed to sneak you into his room in the first place. </p><p>He sat down beside you then, and immediately placed his hands upon you: One on your face as you turned to look at him, the other on the small of your back. He <i>was</i> warm, although that hardly felt like a reprieve to you. His expression was serene; relaxed— again, it seemed that he actually believed what he kept on saying to you about being able to make you happy here. His self-assuredness was disquieting, to say the least.</p><p>"Now," he said, clearly having dismissed any concerns you might possess about the tenuousness of his 'plan', "Why don't you let me show you how much you mean to me? I've been watching you for <i>so long.</i> If you get to know me as well as I already know you, this'll get easier. I promise."</p><p>You weren't stupid enough to argue with him, so you didn't... but when he leaned in to kiss you, you recoiled. It was a purely instinctive response, but it didn't serve you. As soon as he registered you pulling back, his hand came off of your face and his own expression darkened. Very suddenly, your throat closed up in tandem with his fist, and it felt like you were breathing through a straw. You were beginning to get used to it by now, frankly, but being used to it didn't make it any less frightening. It also didn't make you hate it any less. </p><p>He released you just as the tears started to spring to your eyes. Then he asked, "Aren't you going to at least try for me? <i>I'm trying for you."</i></p><p>After some rapid blinking and a few deep, desperate breaths, you answered him, "Yes— yes, I'll try. I'm sorry. <i>I'm sorry, Anakin."</i> </p><p>You thought, briefly, about screaming your head off in the hopes of someone outside the room hearing you... but you knew by now that Anakin was perfectly capable of crushing your trachea entirely, and that he would certainly be able to do it before you ever worked up enough of a fuss for anyone to hear you. That made you reconsider making more noise than you needed to. Anyway, you had no way of knowing if anyone was even there, and you hadn't been here long enough yet to want to spite Anakin with the challenge of disposing of your dead body.</p><p>"Thank you," he said, as the calm, happy, odd little smile returned to his face. He replaced his hand on your cheek and leaned in to try again; this time, you didn't resist. You gave into his kiss, as if kissing him were something you actually wanted to do. </p><p>He was truly and spectacularly terrible at it, which told you that he likely hadn't done it very often (if at all) before taking you as what amounted to a pet. His teeth clicked against yours, his lips were both too wet and too eager, and his tongue flailed haphazardly around the inside of your mouth like a dying fish on the deck of a rowboat. You tried to correct him through example (you'd been trying to do that since you had arrived here), but he seemed dead-set on pursuing his own abysmal 'technique'. </p><p>When he finally pulled back from you, you looked down; found that he was now rock-hard inside those enviable pants you hadn't been able to keep yourself from noticing. They certainly didn't leave much to the imagination; not when it came to his dick, anyway. He had begun to stroke your back by then, and the hand he'd placed on your face had trailed down your neck and across your chest to cup one of your bare breasts. That made you want to shiver despite his warmth, but you suppressed it because you didn't want to upset him. </p><p>"You're really are <i>so beautiful,"</i> he reiterated, giving your breast a squeeze. "I knew you were special from the very first time I saw you— I knew you could help me, and that I could help you, too. Don't you think Coruscant would be a nicer place if everybody helped each other?"</p><p>What the hell was he on about this time? Did he really think your 'relationship' was mutually beneficial; that either of you got anything good out of it? What had happened to him to so grievously fuck up his view of the world? He was so young— you wouldn't have thought him old enough to be as disturbed as he seemed.</p><p>"You're right," you agreed. "People should help each other, shouldn't they?" You weren't especially convincing, you thought, but Anakin either didn't notice or didn't care.</p><p>"See?" he asked. "You do understand... and the longer you stay here, the easier it will be." He paused, and looked you up-and-down. "How about I do something nice for you? After that, you can do something nice for me. That way, we'll both be helping each other, and <i>then</i> maybe you'll feel a bit better about being here with me. How does that sound?" He spoke spoke with an overabundance of anticipation; much like his wet, sloppy kisses, he was far too eager for his own good... or for yours. </p><p>"...Okay," you said, because you didn't want to be choked again.</p><p>"Lie back on the bed, then. I want to taste you— has anyone ever told you how <i>good</i> you taste?"</p><p>You fought the urge to scowl as you obeyed him without answering, and fell onto your back. He ignored your silence, hopping off the edge of the bed and repositioning  himself between your legs.</p><p>His pussy-licking was as exactly as sloppy and fraught with inexperience as his kissing. </p><p>First he sucked on your lips, which might have been alright if his teeth weren't so prone to getting in the way. You squealed in pain, but that only served to make him think you were enjoying yourself, prompting him to do more of the same. Once he was finished with that, he started to flick his tongue about; however, it was in a manner which made it abundantly clear that his knowledge of your anatomy was not what he might have liked (or presumed) it to be. </p><p>You closed your eyes and tried to think of something— <i>anything</i>— that might make it better. Nothing came to mind; soon, you found yourself growing irritated. Had this boy ever so much as seen a diagram of a clitoris? Did he even know you <i>had</i> one? His first time doing this to you had very obviously been his first time doing it to anybody, and his lack of willingness to receive instruction meant he hadn't even remotely improved.</p><p>Tonight it was bothering you more than it normally would have. His attention was so unwanted and so utterly lacking in skill that you began to grow viscerally, desperately annoyed. You wanted to close him out with your thighs; wanted, even, to go back into your box. </p><p>Neither of those things was an option right now, though, so you just laid there and grimaced, glad he couldn't see your face. </p><p>You thought he'd tire of devouring your pussy once it became clear that you weren't going to come for him, but Anakin was nothing if not persistent. Your irritation grew, to the point where even the threat of being choked was not enough to assuage it.</p><p>That must have been why you grabbed him by the back of his hair. </p><p>His body went rigid, and he peered up at you through his lashes. Piercing, blue eyes stared you down, and for a moment you thought you were in trouble... until you showed him exactly what it was you intended to do by taking a handful of his hair. </p><p>"Like this," you said, trying to project as much confidence as you possibly could given the circumstances. "I'm going to show you where to lick, and then I'm going to come in your mouth. Would you like that, Anakin?"</p><p>In an unexpected display of awe-filled submissiveness, he nodded. </p><p>"Alright," you said. "Just let me help, and in no time at all, you'll have made me happy. <i>I know how much you want to make me happy."</i></p><p>He made a sound, then, that you supposed indicated his compliance, and went back to work on your cunt, this time letting you guide his movements with your hand. He was gentler now; a bit more subdued, which was more than you'd have expected from him. You appreciated it as much as you'd appreciated the wet towel he'd brought you.</p><p>You tugged on his hair to indicate things like up and down, and left and right; moaned and hummed when he licked or sucked or nibbled in the right places, in the interest of showing him what felt good to you. You actually even managed to get wet with something other than his spit... and you knew he noticed it, because you could practically hear him smiling as he made a series of his own noises indicating his wonderment. </p><p>To his credit, he at least didn't seem to tire of pleasuring you. When the electric crackle of your arousal started to build up around his tongue and you began to tighten your grip on his hair, he went back to using his own instincts; thrust his tongue inside of you. His upper lip rubbed pleasantly against the bottom of your clit as he drank you up, and you cried out because you simply couldn't help it.</p><p>"That's right, Anakin," you breathed. "That's perfect— <i>don't stop."</i></p><p>For the first time since your arrival in his room, he listened to what you had to say; you knew, because he kept on going just the way he was. Your pussy felt hot, and you knew you were leaking onto his tongue. His hands were upon your thighs by now, tracing lines with his blunted, dirty teenaged fingernails; it felt as good as anything, especially given the fact that he was finally following your direction.</p><p>You thrust your hips up into his face, and let a series of noises escape the back of your throat as you twisted his hair in your hand, and allowed yourself the reprieve of releasing into his mouth. He must have been able to taste the difference; either that, or your haphazard bucking and shuddering tipped him off— he hummed happily himself, with what sounded like great surprise. He lapped you up excitedly, and didn't raise his head to look at you again until your grip on his hair started to loosen, and your muscles began to relax. </p><p>When you saw his face again, it was wet from his nose right on down to his chin, and he seemed to be beaming with pride.</p><p>"Did you like that?" he asked, crawling up onto the bed with those well-muscled arms of his, and pressing his body into yours as he lay obtrusively atop you. "You taste incredible. <i>Did you know you taste incredible?"</i></p><p>"You were fantastic," you offered with a false smile, in lieu of actually answering his question. Your breathing was heavy and you knew your face was flushed and sweaty; your orgasm, at least, hadn't been fake this time. </p><p>"I do what I can," he grinned, with an equally false sense of modesty. Clearly, he was very proud of himself right now. "Can I fuck you?" he asked fervidly, pressing his hard-on into your leg through his pants. Anakin loved to put his dick inside you; however, fucking was yet another thing you were painfully aware of his not having practised very much (if at all) prior to taking you for his own. </p><p>"I'm all yours," you told him, without a hint of irony. For all intents and purposes, you had become his property; whether he saw it that way or not was irrelevant to you. You hated it, but hating it didn't change the fact of it. Nothing would, until you managed to find a way out of here. </p><p>You <i>had</i> to find a way out of here. </p><p>"You feel <i>so good</i> inside," he said, having pulled his dick out of his pants by then, and reached down to grip himself around his base. He teased your entrance with it briefly before simply ramming it in; you spread your legs wide to make it easier for him, although they continued to dangle from the edge of the bed. It hurt less than it normally did to have him thrust himself into you because of how wet you already were; you were grateful for the fact that he'd accepted your guidance earlier.</p><p>"Fuck, Anakin!" you hissed, sucking a lungful of air sharply in through your teeth. His cock was long and thick, and his muscles made him feel heavy. Between the stretch you felt in your cunt and the weight of his body pressing down on you, you felt nearly consumed by him right now... which you supposed was exactly what he wanted. It wasn't what <i>you</i> wanted, but again, what you wanted really didn't matter here in his room.</p><p>He propped himself up on his elbows as he started to thrust; he was nose-to-nose with you, now— so close that you could feel his breath, and see right into his eyes. Their focus was frightening; unrelenting. You stared right back, waiting for him to say something. He <i>always</i> said something.</p><p>"I love you," he whispered, between a series of soft grunts and quiet moans. "I love you, and I need you— <i>don't you see how much I need you?"</i> He loved to ask you that. </p><p>You didn't see, not at all, but you told him you did anyway, and placed your arms around his shoulders because you knew it would please him. When Anakin was happy, he was almost kind; kind enough not to choke you, anyway. Kind enough not to hurt you— kind enough, you hoped, not to cut you in half with his weapon. </p><p>He might have been unskilled, but again, his cock was formidable; soon, you were whimpering and moaning as if this were something you actually wanted. He must have sensed that you were about to become altogether too loud, because he pressed his mouth roughly against yours as he picked up his pace. You felt his abs tense, and registered his fingertips digging into the mattress on either side of your head. He thrust his tongue past your lips and teeth once again (you could taste yourself on him, now), and relished the opportunity to sloppily explore your mouth— Anakin certainly seemed to enjoy kissing you, whether he was any good at it or not.</p><p>His inexperience meant, thankfully, that it wasn't long before his bucking grew haphazard, and he started to whine. His voice reverberated through you as he shouted  heartily into your mouth; he grew thick inside you, and you couldn't help but clench around him as his dick started to pulse. He jolted suddenly, then, and pulled his head back to cry out as he shot himself into your reluctantly receptive little hole.</p><p>You hated to admit that it felt good; however, for as nice as the physical sensation was, his going off inside you always terrified you— there was absolutely nothing to prevent his seed from impregnating you, after all, and the very last thing you wanted was to have to request from him an abortifacient, and miscarry his rape-baby in the bottom of your pine box.  </p><p>The mere notion of him trying to keep you alive within the confines of his room for the duration of a pregnancy sickened you.</p><p>He kissed at your neck as he collapsed on top of you; if he'd been a normal boy, you might have tried to push him off in his post-coital exhaustion... but Anakin was far from a 'normal' boy, so you didn't do that. </p><p>Instead, you put up with his unwanted affection, and waited.</p><p>Soon enough, he'd be finished; once he was finished, he pulled his wet, flaccid dick out of you and took a few deep breaths. He looked down on you with love whether it made any sense or not, and then he retrieved for you the food he had brought for you to eat. You picked half-heartedly at it for a while the same way you always did; after that, you told him you needed to pee.</p><p>"Here," he said, handing you an empty water glass. You squatted and used it, again just like always, because there was nothing else available to you. </p><p>Anakin tended to watch with a disconcerting amount of glee as you peed into the cup; you wondered absently if he had a piss fetish, on top of everything else that was clearly wrong with him. Once you'd filled the receptacle, you handed it to him to dispose of, although you secretly wondered whether or not he was actually getting rid of it. Part of you suspected that he was drinking the stuff, frankly, although you didn't have anything to back up that particular theory— it just seemed like something a boy like him might do.</p><p>Once he'd covered your cup of pee up with a towel so that he could carry it out of his room without raising too much suspicion, he ordered you back into your box. You were never, ever allowed free reign of his space when he wasn't there to monitor you— it was logical, really, even though it distressed you. You re-entered your habitat naked; there was no point in putting your clothes back on, and you knew it.</p><p>"I'll be back soon," he promised you, as he closed the lid and locked you up. </p><p>"Will I get to come out again before you go to sleep tonight?" you asked through the wood, because although you hated spending time with Anakin, being trapped in the box was typically immeasurably worse.</p><p>"We'll see," he said, as he pushed the entire contraption (and you, of course) safely back beneath his bed.</p><p>You didn't say anything else after that. You merely listened to him move about the room, gathering up the things he intended to take away with him. While your eyes readjusted to the darkness, you heard the door open and shut as he exited the room. </p><p>As soon as you knew you were by yourself again, your eyes flooded with tears and you started to sob. You almost never cried in front of Anakin; you didn't want to give him the satisfaction— or, conversely, give him any reason to try to make you feel better. </p><p>You didn't even want to <i>think</i> about what he might do to try to cheer you up. </p><p>As you cried softly and waited for him to return, you thought about just what he might want to do if he did opt let you out again before he was ready to go to sleep. Would he want more sex? Would he play with your hair as he sometimes did, or would he just sit and stare at you? He did that quite often, too, usually with a lopsided, self-satisfied little smile on his face.</p><p>It occurred to you then that you might ask him to let you dance for a while— if you told him it was something you wanted to do <i>for</i> him, he might be more inclined to give you a bit of freedom of movement. You were sore and stiff from being stuck in your box all day; more than that, you missed doing the thing you loved the most: The thing that had drawn you to Coruscant; the thing that, unfortunately, had caused you to catch Anakin's attention in the first place. </p><p>If he'd broken you more successfully, you might have blamed your passion for your current predicament; however, you couldn't bring yourself to do that... not yet, anyway. The strength of your desire to return to your craft, in fact, was your primary motivation for wanting to escape Anakin's clutches, and get back to your life. </p><p>As long as he didn't know that, you thought, he might just let you keep on doing it... even if you had to do it (as you now did nearly everything else) under the guise of wanting to make him happy.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is only going to be three chapters long. </p><p>Much more of Anakin's crazy next time, because obviously, that was just a warm-up for a kid like him.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>